


Day 10 - Orgasm Denial

by readbetweenthelions



Series: 30-Day Smut Challenge [10]
Category: Gangsta. (Manga)
Genre: Edgeplay, Hand Jobs, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 03:30:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4771778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readbetweenthelions/pseuds/readbetweenthelions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It really has been remarkably too quick tonight, Worick thinks. He wants to slow him down, make Nic wait a little longer, make him really feel the edge of his sexual frustration before Worick lets him get off. Nic is impatient, and now Worick wants to play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 10 - Orgasm Denial

**Author's Note:**

> [bitch-u-guessed-it.mp3](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kT3OQwyvKmk)  
>  i knew i was going to write gangsta fic as soon as i read the first couple chapters of the manga so here it is

Worick mouths along the line of Nic’s throat, noting the scratchiness from where Nic had neglected to shave this morning. He feels Nic swallow, but not a nervous sort of swallowing. More like anticipation. After all, they’ve been doing this for a long damn time now. Nervousness between them was left behind decades ago.

Nic makes a small, involuntary noise deep in his throat, and in response Worick lets his hands travel over Nic’s body, hands skittering up to swipe the pads of his thumbs over Nic’s nipples and then down again to feel the tautness of Nic’s abs and then, with one hand, lower still. Worick’s fingers circle around Nic’s erection, gentle at first, and then firm when he begins to jack Nic off.

He’d come to Worick tonight, which was sort of a rare occurrence. Usually it’s Worick who comes to Nic, horny and in need of a dependable fuck, and usually Nic calls him a nympho and a pervert but brings Worick into his bed regardless. Nic must be looking for something tonight – some release for tension that can’t be worked out on its own. But then, it _has_ been quite a while since their last roll in the hay, and Worick has serious doubts that Nic has been with anyone else in the meantime.

Their bodies fit together somehow, maybe hewn to matching shapes by years of practice, maybe just avoiding parts that stick out by remembering what’s worked and what hasn’t over the years. Worick remembers it all, and every word Nic has signed to him, but some things stand out more clearly than others. He remembers Nic, young and naked and standing by the door of the room they’d rented together at that time, still a little sweaty from sex – it was not the first time they’d done it, but one of the first few times, and they were both still getting used to the idea of togetherness in a different way than before.

“ _I don’t care if you bring home some disease,_ ” Nic had signed. With the motion for _disease_ there was also a glance down at Worick’s crotch. “ _I don’t have much longer to live, anyway. What’s a little dick rot to me?_ ”

Well, the joke’s on him. It’s been almost twenty years since then and Nic still isn’t dead yet – and Worick’s dick hasn’t rotted off, either.

And Worick is extremely grateful for that. He grinds against Nic, rubbing his erection against Nic’s thigh. Nic’s hands trace lightly up Worick’s spine in response, raising goosebumps on Worick’s skin. His hands stroke over Worick’s shoulders and stop when they cup the curve of Worick’s neck, thumbs resting gently near Worick’s throat. Worick moans long and low, letting Nic feel the vibrations; he’s always liked that, being able to feel how good Worick is feeling by the sounds he makes in his throat even if Nic can’t hear it.

Nic grunts in response. Usually he’s mostly silent during sex, as in the rest of his life – unless he needs Worick’s attention, or unless he really can’t help but moan with the pleasure. Worick has ears attuned to every sigh and grunt that Nic can’t hear himself, and he can decode them as easily as spoken word or the movement of Nic’s hands. He can hear desperation there tonight, and Worick wants to pull it out of him and unravel it.

Worick grabs for Nic’s hands, pulling them gently away from his neck and pushing his wrists into the mattress on either side of Nic’s head. Nic stares up at Worick, studying his face, waiting for instructions.

“Stay like this,” Worick tells him, certain Nic is looking and can read his lips. “Don’t touch.”

It’s more of a request than an order, but Nic obeys it anyway. His arms loosen at his sides, no longer pushing a little against Worick’s hold as they had been. Worick shifts downwards in the bed until he’s made a spot for himself in the sheets between Nic’s legs.

As he’s pressing a wet line of kisses up the underside of Nic’s cock, Worick thinks for a moment of Alex. She’s not here, obviously. Nic would never have agreed to fool around with him if she was. Worick gives a small sigh that he knows will go unnoticed. Would a threesome with Alex really be so bad? She’s sexy, after all, and she’d be a real handful in bed if Worick could get her to agree to it. She could be good for the both of them, Worick thinks, eyes traveling over Nic’s heaving chest and brows furrowed in concentration, his body covered in a light sheen of sweat already.

But Alex isn’t the only wrench in that plan. Nic isn’t interested in another woman. The last one really took a toll on him, and he must feel like another one is the last thing he needs. Well, Worick can respect that. It’ll be the two of them, like always, at least for a while longer.

Worick sucks at a spot at the base of Nic’s cock and feels him wriggle under Worick’s hold. Worick’s mouth is just teasing, and Nic probably knows it. Worick never hesitates when it comes to giving head, and the fact that his lips aren’t already wrapped around the base of Nic’s shaft is probably enough to tip him off that Worick won’t be sucking him off tonight – at least, not right now.

Worick wraps his fingers around Nic’s cock instead, moves his wrist slowly and keeps his grip tight. He hears Nic sigh with a little bit of relief. Not enough, not yet, but something to ease the tension tightening Nic’s shoulders. The tip of Nic’s cock leaks precum, enough to lubricate the slow, circular motions of Worick’s thumb around the head.

“You’re wet,” Worick says, signing along with his words with his free hand. Nic doesn’t reply. Instead, he lies his head back on the pillow and shuts his eyes – focusing on the feeling, Worick knows.

“ _More,_ ” Nic signs without lifting his head to check that Worick is listening.

“ _Too soon,_ ” Worick replies, though he knows Nic won’t see it.

Worick keeps up his steady pace until Nic is hissing through his teeth and his hips are twitching impatiently. He’s probably had this orgasm building for much longer than just tonight, Worick thinks, judging by how easy it’s been to get him here. He wonders how long it’s been since Nic last got off – if it’s been since the last time Nic had sex, then it really has been quite a while. Worick would know, since he was there for it.

One of Nic’s hands grips Worick’s shoulder tightly. It’s not a sign, but Worick understands the meaning anyway. _Hurry._

Nic is whining, an involuntary keening as he mounts to his orgasm. It really has been remarkably too quick tonight, Worick thinks. He wants to slow him down, make Nic wait a little longer, make him really feel the edge of his sexual frustration before Worick lets him get off. Nic is impatient, and now Worick wants to _play_.

Nic’s body tenses, tight as a bowstring, ready to release. Before Nic can quite reach his peak, Worick squeezes the base of Nic’s cock – not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to fight down Nic’s orgasm. He can feel Nic squirm with surprise. Nic takes a shuddering breath, disappointed at the loss of his climax.

“ _More!_ ” Nic signs, more emphatically this time, lifting his head to glare down at Worick.

Worick shakes his head. They’ve played this sort of game before, and Worick knows he’ll get the hint. Worick taps Nic’s hand on his shoulder with the fingers of his free hand.

“Hands off,” Worick says. “I told you.”

Nic lets his hand slide away, leaving his arms at his sides once again. Worick would hold him down, just for the fun of it, but neither of them like to restrain their hands much. It makes it so much harder to talk when their hands aren’t an option.

Worick circles his fingers around Nic once again. He starts to pump his hand around Nic’s cock again, slowly at first, bringing him back up to where he was before. Nic settles into it, letting his body relax, feeling out his arousal once more. When Worick quickens his pace, Nic’s body reacts in kind. His muscles tense and his fingers curl like claws for a moment, digging into open air, then dropping to grip themselves tight in the sheets.

Worick waits for Nic’s hips to jump and buck against him before he stops moving his hand altogether and waits with his thumb pressed against the thick vein that runs along the underside of Nic’s cock, pushing back another mounting orgasm. Nic’s jaw clenches so tightly that Worick can see muscles standing out in his neck, but after a few seconds his body sags low into the bed, exhausted from trying and failing to catch his climax yet again.

When he is sure that Nic is well away from his orgasm again, Worick resumes his slow strokes around Nic’s cock. This time he’ll keep it this way, slow and steady and even instead of speeding up when Nic starts to get close.

Worick keeps a close eye on Nic while he works his hand around Nic’s cock. He’s panting with the exertion, sweat sticking his hair to his skin and running in rivulets along the lines of his muscles. Nic squeezes his eyes shut and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, straining to come before Worick can pull him out of this again. Worick lets him try for a moment, but loosens his grasp once more when it seems that Nic is almost at his end.

Nic’s exasperated whine gives way to a grunt of frustration and he raises himself up on his elbows to look down at Worick, a frown etched deep on his mouth.

“ _Why?_ ” Nic signs.

“You’ll feel better at the end,” Worick says.

“ _Too much._ ”

“You can take a little more.”

Worick works his hand around Nic’s cock a few times, until Nic’s hips buck involuntarily, fucking against Worick’s palm. Nic lifts his head and looks down at Worick, as if expecting punishment for this action, and when none comes Nic takes it as an open invitation. He thrusts hard against Worick’s hand, fucking against it, and Worick can see a spark of hope in the way Nic’s teeth worry at his lower lip.

It takes only a moment for Nic to get himself back to the brink of his orgasm this time, now that he’s controlling the pace. He pants and twists his hands in the sheets for stability, looking to get off before Worick can stop him. But Worick is too good a judge of Nic’s body. He takes his hand away just in time, leaving Nic humping at empty air for a moment before his body shudders and his cock twitches and he falls away from his orgasm yet again.

Worick waits a moment, then brings his hand back to Nic’s cock. Nic sucks in a breath, hoping, Worick knows, that Worick will finally let him get off this time. Worick feels a little guilty when he instead squeezes the base of Nic’s cock again, squashing down any hope of this latest impending climax, and Nic hisses through his teeth with bitter disappointment.

“Wor – ick – ” Nic keens, his cry strangled by desperation.

“Shh,” Worick whispers, more for himself than for Nic. To calm Nic’s rapidly deteriorating nerves, Worick caresses Nic’s body, moving his open-palmed hand in long, soothing strokes over his tensed abdominals, fingers splaying and tracing over his skin. Nic sucks in a breath and swallows air, his exhale stuck in his throat. He squirms, tries to buck his hips and force his cock through Worick’s fingers, then arches his back with frustration when his struggling gets him nowhere.

It’s not really Worick’s intent to break him. Nic has had far worse than this, actual debilitating pain instead of repeated denial of pleasure. All those overdoses and fights and injuries and near-death experiences – it’s all just more proof that Nic already pushes himself on his own, likes to live just at the edge of what might actually kill him. Worick knows where Nic’s boundaries lie, perhaps better than Nic himself does – or at the very least tends to respect those boundaries better than Nic does. Besides, if Worick really was pushing him harder than he could handle, it would be nothing at all to Nic to shove Worick away and finish himself off instead of playing along with Worick’s game.

Just as this thought crosses his mind, Nic’s hand shoots down towards Worick and Worick flinches away, thinking he might have finally overdone it and really pissed Nic off. Yet instead of receiving a blow that could have had a very high chance of actually killing him, Worick feels a warm pressure around the hand that’s been resting on Nic’s body. Nic’s hand clasps tight around Worick’s own, the pads of his fingers digging in hard enough that there might be bruises on Worick’s hand tomorrow, but Nic comes nowhere close to snapping bones or digging his fingernails into Worick’s skin and making him bleed, as Worick knows all too well that Nic could do with extreme ease. Nic’s hold on Worick’s hand is a plea, wordless and motionless, begging for Worick to finally let him have his release before he breaks from the pressure in another way.

Worick lets him have it, touching him with the intent to actually let him come this time. When Nic reaches the edge of his orgasm he seems to shy away, certain that Worick is going to deny him again. When Worick keeps at it without letting up, Nic gives a long, satisfied sigh. He lets his body relax and succumb to the pleasure washing through him.

With a raw, discordant moan, Nic finally reaches his climax. His cock twitches under Worick’s hand, cum pumping hot and thick over Worick’s fingers. It seems not to stop for a long while, each hot, panting breath bringing another spurt that dribbles down Worick’s hand to pool on Nic’s stomach. Worick gives Nic a moment to breathe and level off and waits for Nic to look down at him.

“Ah, that’s what I wanted to see,” Worick says, lifting his hand to show Nic just how much cum is coating his fingers and the back of his hand. “You came a lot. Just how backed up were you?”

“ _Shut up._ ”

“Feel good to finally have your balls empty?”

Nic glowers at Worick, but his heart isn’t in it. He lifts a hand heavy with exhaustion, seeming to only have the energy to spare for a simple sign, just “ _good,_ ” and then his hands drop to his sides once more.

“You can suck my cock as a thank you,” Worick says.

“ _Fuck you_ ,” Nic signs, but without much feeling. Worick knows Nic will return the favor once he recovers from his orgasm. He remembers the pressure of Nic’s hand gripping his own, and twists his wrist until he can lace his fingers with Nic’s. The two of them lay like that for a moment, Worick’s body draped over Nic’s legs and their hands clinging tight to the other’s, until Worick starts to become uncomfortable with Nic’s cum starting to cool on his hand.

“I’m going to clean up,” Worick says, untangling his fingers from Nic’s and standing from the bed, “and then we can finish what we started.”

“ _Why would I suck you off after you tortured me?_ ” Nic signs, grinning nastily behind his moving hands.

“You can do the same thing to me if you want,” Worick shrugs. “But revenge doesn’t really solve anything, does it? An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”

“ _Yeah, and you can’t afford to lose another eye._ ”

“Of all the filthy Twilights in this world, you’re the cruelest of them all, Nic.”

Nic waves a hand at Worick, dismissing him off to the bathroom, but Worick catches the soft grin that spreads over his lips before leaving the room.


End file.
